


Shattered

by vitiasolus



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Glenn was born a bad ass, Glenn's family has dubious occupations, Pre-Slash, horrid descriptions of everything, idk if there a was prompt on the twd-kinkmeme that inspired this or what, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitiasolus/pseuds/vitiasolus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glenn will admit that he hasn't been the most open of people when it comes to his past but in his defense no one really asked in the first place. A broken family is brought back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> Short prologue to start us off. Any and all mistakes are my own. My beta has disappeared off the face of the earth. Sad day.

Glenn was twelve years old when he first killed a man. His father's large hands were a warm weight on his as he helped him steady the cold gun cocked in his little fist. His finger quivered on the trigger and he felt the quiet breaths above him tickle his hair and he knew if he looked up at that moment he would see dark, intense eyes focused on the blindfolded man on his knees. Glenn sucked a short breaths in, his little chest heaving with apprehension and fear. The thudding heavy beat of his father's heart did little to calm his nerves. 

He was going to kill a man. 

_Kill a man_.   

A living breathing human being with thoughts and emotions and a mind that supplied opinions and words and a heart. A beating heart - a heart he was supposed to still. 

He shifted into a stable stance - thought a million thoughts like 'noIcan'tIcan't _Ican't_ ' and 'Appapleasenopleasenonono' - and 

squeezed.

He struggled to keep his stance strong but felt himself fall further into his father's arms. 

Glenn felt pieces of himself shudder and rip and tear and _break_. His father grinned into his hair whispering praises and approval. Not a word of the stream of jumbled phrases made sense to him; the world around him was muffled and quiet. He watched with wide eyes as the man gurgled curses in his dying breath. He stared unblinking, fascinated as the tiny rivers of blood stemming from the ragged hole in the man's throat decorated the scorching asphalt. 

He looked away sharply, head spinning, hands shaking and throat convulsing, the sharp scent of blood made bile rise up in this throat.  Years later, Glenn would blame his nausea and dizziness on the Atlanta summer sun and the smell of heated rotting garbage in the muggy alleyway but at that moment he knew. 

Sparing a last, unwanted look at the finally dead man, Glenn wondered what it felt like to be so close to death but have to struggle with the last painful dredges of life and choked back the torrent of guiltshamesadnessfearfearfear.

He did that. He made a man suffer before succumbing to death. He tortured a man at the request of his father.

His father gently loosened his death grip on the pistol and gathered him in his arms.

"Oh my son, my little boy," he whispered. "I am so proud."

Glenn felt no shame in burying his tiny face into the crook of his father's neck and wrapping thin legs around a broader waist as he was hefted up. Hot tears pricked behind his tightly shut eye lids and streamed down pale rounded cheeks. Glenn listened to the gruff voice of his father bark out orders in rapid Korean to get rid of the body. A large hand came to rest on the back of his head stroking softly at baby soft curls at the nape of his neck. Thin lips ghosted at the top of his head and he was squeezed briefly.

"Shed no tears for the damned, my son," was whispered silkily into his ear. 

Glenn couldn't help but wonder, was it the man - the creature that laid dead at his feet - or he that was damned?

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where I'm going with this. Why am I writing a WIP again? Oh yeah, because I'm an overconfident little boob.


End file.
